


every day an exploration

by theoorsomething



Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: (points at james and william), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, F/F, F/M, He/Him and They/Them Pronouns for James Pendrick, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Wow, he deserves it, these bitches gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29166243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoorsomething/pseuds/theoorsomething
Summary: a life of joy and disarraya swap au in which james pendrick is a brilliant coroner and julia ogden is a romantic inventor.title from “something after all” from starry.
Relationships: George Crabtree & William Murdoch, James Pendrick & Thomas Brackenreid, Julia Ogden/Sally Hubbard, William Murdoch & James Pendrick, William Murdoch/James Pendrick, William Murdoch/Julia Ogden/James Pendrick
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	1. New Arrival

Brackenreid was _excited_. Actually excited, an emotion Murdoch hadn’t seen on his employer’s face many times, not that he could remember. He knew _why_ the Inspector was excited; he hadn’t shut up about it for the last week; but seeing him light up like a child on Christmas still caught Murdoch off guard.

“Murdoch? I’ve got a special task for you today, so consider yourself lucky.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You are going to be the lucky chap to welcome the new coroner. They just got off the train last night from Buffalo, so I’ll need you to keep an eye on them, make sure they know the rules that Canadian coroner needta uphold, all that.”

It wasn’t that their old coroner was _bad_ … It was just that he was incapable of telling poisons apart and was so old and shaky he couldn’t cut a straight line…

Okay, so perhaps he was bad.

Regardless, Inspector Brackenreid (and Murdoch, though much less enthusiastically) had been awaiting a new coroner to come along and replace the old one, and it seemed the day had finally arrived. While the coroners were under the city’s pay and hire, they worked so closely alongside the police that it was almost impossible _not_ to be happy at the sight of someone capable coming to Toronto’s morgue.

“Sir, I’m going to be quite busy these next few days—“

“Nothing the constables can’t take care of, me ole mucker. Now go on! Out, out!” 

Brackenreid shooed the detective out of his office with a rolled up newspaper and closed the door, the frosted window painted “Inspector Thomas C. Brackenreid” staring Murdoch in the face as he stood there, still bewildered.

* * *

He took a deep shaky breath as he knocked on the door of the morgue’s lower level. _Not much was known about the new coroner_ , Murdoch reasoned in his mind, _he had reason to be worried_. After all, what if this doctor was just as old and incapable as the las-

The door swung open, cutting off his thoughts. In the doorway stood a man, not much older than him but about a half head taller, with light hair and small glasses balanced on his nose. They wore a white apron over a blue collared shirt, the sleeves rolled up. 

Already, the apron was stained with what Murdoch could only assume was blood, as were the latex gloves.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Consider me your one-man welcome party, on behalf of Station House 4.” Murdoch extended a hand and the man frowned down at it.

“I would shake, but…,” They nodded down at their bloodied palms.

“Ah. Right.”

“Do come in, though!” The doctor took off back into the lab, and Murdoch followed behind, shutting the door. While the past coroner almost always had this place in a state of disorder, the counters, and shelves all looked to be organized and scrubbed clean. Immediately, he was impressed.

“Am I supposed to pretend to be blown away by the lukewarm welcome?” The doctor asked, smirking.

“No- No, I realize this isn’t the best greeting to a new city, but-“

“I’m only teasing, Mr…?”

“Detective…”

“Mr. Detective?” The man’s smirk grew into a wider smile.

“No, no, it’s Murdoch. Detective is my honourific, William Murdoch is my name.”

“Well, Doctor is my honourific, and James Pendrick is my name, but you can call me Mr. Pendrick if you’d prefer that. Never did like the stuck-up type that insisted they be called Doctor no matter what the occasion…” He squinted, “Are you the stuck-up type that insist they be called _Detective_ no matter what the occasion, _Mr._ Murdoch?”

Murdoch laughed. “Only in public. Need to keep up appearances, can’t have other professionals drag my title through the mud in front of common folk.”

Dr. Pendrick (Mr. Pendrick? Which would he genuinely prefer?) laughed too.

“Now, let me just…,” He took off his gloves, “There we are.” Pendrick extended their left hand to Murdoch, who shook it. “A pleasure to meet you Murdoch… shall we get to work?”


	2. Toronto

Julia Ogden was writing  _ quickly _ . Extremely quickly, more so than Sally had seen her do in at least a month, quite possibly longer.

“Darling, what are you working on?” She placed her chin on Julia’s shoulder from behind, smiling.

Julia leaned her head slightly on Sally’s, tapping a few more words on her typewriter keyboard.

“It’s a proposal for a new building in Toronto.”

Sally gasped. “Toronto? I don’t believe it, Miss Small-Town-Advocate wants to build in  _ Toronto? _ ”

“Oh, no need to tease. You know Niagara was safer for us starting out, Sal.” Julia attempted to pout, but she was smiling.

“I know, Jules. Regardless, you do realize proposing a building in Toronto requires actually moving near Toronto?”

Julia nodded. “I know. I think we’re ready… I mean, assuming you want to come with me.”

Sally kissed Julia’s cheek. “Of course I do. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Julia laughed, finishing her typing and removing the paper from the typewriter. She grabbed her fountain pen and signed the bottom of the page with a flourish, then set it aside and kissed Sally.

“I know… Now, we better start packing for Toronto.”

“You don’t  _ know _ that the proposal will go through.”

“Oh, it will, or my name’s not Julia Ogden,” She teased.


	3. Counting Chickens

“I see no way that our victim could have died in that greenhouse, Doctor. There were signs of poisoning in his lungs and stomach lining, but there’s no proof he ate or drank anything while there. He must’ve been placed there afterwards, but there’s even  _ less _ evidence of where the death would’ve originally taken place!”

Pendrick was flipping through a book on poisons as he listened to the detective. He paused and looked up.

“...Is it possible he could have inhaled the poison?”

“Well, yes, but how would the killer have poisoned him through the air without breathing it in himself?”

He looked to Murdoch’s chalkboard, only a few feet away from where Pendrick was sat on top of the desk (much to the detective’s faked annoyance).  _ How could someone have inhaled poison in a greenhouse with no toxic plant life? _

“...The misting system,” He said quietly.

“Hm?” Murdoch looked over at him, finally taking a break from staring holes into the blackboard.

“The greenhouse had automatic mist emissions to keep the plants healthy, could they have poisoned the water? After all, the plants did look awfully dead for ones misted and cared for frequently.”

A light turned on behind the detective’s eyes. “I hadn’t even considered the mist, I didn’t even have my men check it… Could he have inhaled enough to kill him?”

“Maybe not at once, but my results as to whether it was one time or a slow trickle came back inconclusive… It could have been slowly administered every time Mr. Applegate entered the greenhouse.”

Murdoch nodded, pacing and looking down at the floor. “Yes, yes, that’s true…” He looked up and smiled at his companion. “I believe you’ve solved it.”

They smiled back. “Have I?”

“Well, I can’t be certain until I check but…” He opened the office door, grabbing his hat. “George! Go to the crime scene, collect a sample of the water in the misting system’s barrel. Don’t touch it, you understand?”

“Detective, where are you headed?” Pendrick leaned back in their chair.

“Same place as you, hopefully. I’d like to take you out to lunch.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Is it wise to count our chickens before they hatch?” Pendrick caught his own hat as Murdoch tossed it to him.

“Well, I’m considering it thanks for getting me out of the dead end, even if your hypothesis is incorrect. Besides, I’m hoping it’s added incentive to let me use your equipment to test that water.”

“Damn your ulterior motives,” Pendrick said teasingly. “It’s all work, no play with you, Detective.”

“That’s how the job gets done. Now, lunch?”


End file.
